Oh how I wish I could paint you a picture! Imagine a dog running around a gas station, my Dad hooting and hollering and trying to scoop freshly born puppies up off the asphalt and reel the momma dog in as it splattered blood all over the gas pumps and a shocked looking attendant and onlookers. Dad loved to tell this story, and him chasing Leesha the dog around the gas station while she was in the middle of giving birth (and mostly oblivious to it) was the shocking climax. Lets jump back a bit.
It was the early 90s, during the summer. My aunt and uncle had left for a cross-Canada-and-USA tour with their four kids and had left their dog Leesha, who was pregnant, with an unknown number of puppies, with us. Our mom was at summer school, because it was just Dad and us kids. He'd borrowed a camper from someone in Hazelton, and managed to install it on our severely under-powered but reliable 1980s propane truck that we'd come to call the rotten banana. I remember we were in love with the camper and the idea of camper-camping - going from a ratty tent to a CAMPER was like going from a Super-8 to the Hilton. We begged dad to magically make the camper ours, but he was firm - it was only a borrow.
Dad loaded up the crew-cab truck and camper and we slowly made our way on the 1,200km trek from Hazelton to Vancouver and Victoria. There was Dad, us four kids, and Leesha the dog, all jammed into the truck. The truck interior was anything but luxurious - it was a farm truck and was equipped with two bench seats and not a lot of space in between. We'd been driving for a day and the cab of the truck became cramped, especially with our +1, Leesha the pregnant dog. Dad decided as I recall to free up some space by moving Leesha into the camper. We were all restless and stir crazy from being pent-up, and when we finally pulled into a gas station toward the end of the day, we all piled out.
We'd stopped somewhere with rolling brown hills, so I am thinking Williams Lake or 100 Mile House are prime suspects. I remember the gas station had a few pumps, and we'd parked off to the side on the space of asphalt between the pumps and the highway. We were happy to be out, and must have looked like the brady bunch as we rolled out of the truck. and Leesha just couldn't wait - as soon as Dad popped the camper door to check on her, she bounded out before he could stop her. She was so happy to be out, she darted from Dad then quickly to each of us kids to say a quick greeting, her tail and rear end wagging furiously. It was around then that we noticed the blood splatters, as they sprayed on us and dripped on the dirty asphalt.
Dad tried to call her and get her back into the camper to have her babies, but she was having none of it. She was too fast for him to catch. She wasn't done greeting people yet! There were so many people to greet! I was sort of frozen between terror, embarrassment, curiosity, and concern. Dad, seemingly immune to embarrassment, chased after her trying to get her to come while quickly issuing apologies to the shocked, frozen onlookers that Leesha was greeting one by one.
"Leesha, come here!" Dad would say, chasing her. Leesha would run up to someone, tail wagging like crazy, greet them for half a second, spray them and everything around with some blood, and then rush off full bound to the next person or vehicle or garbage can.
"Sorry! She's having puppies! Sorry! Leesha, come here!" Dad exclaimed, just as a fresh puppy flopped out of Leesha and onto the asphalt. This slowed Dad down as he carefully scooped up the slippery puppy and continued trying to corral her and get her back into the camper.
Dad's favourite part was the gas attendant. He was a teenager who'd likely never seen the miracle of birth before (this was before the internet), and couldn't quite believe his eyes and had no idea what to do. He was just agape standing between the two pumps. It's always good for a laugh imagining the poor guy in shock. I don't remember if Dad pressed him into action or not, or if it was me, or if dad scooped the puppies and corralled Leesha all on his own.
Dad did get Leesha back into the camper, where she gave birth to the rest of her puppies. Instinct kicked in and she knew what to do. I remember how amazed Sophia (who was quite little) was watching this happen. Worried about the brand new puppies, Dad moved them and their mum into the passenger side footwell of the truck. Whoever got to ride shotgun had to hold their legs up over the pile of dog and puppies. I recall she had a large litter - they barely fit (One did pass away from suffocation in the pile on our return trip).
Looking back I still wonder at all Dad did to keep us fed, dressed, safe, sound, and cared for - and he always made room for another - even a mom and puppies!